Page 69 of Redemption

But that was before I knew what he did to me. Before I knew how dangerous he truly is.

“I will never hurt you,” he reminds me. “Trust me.”

“Dane, I…” I can’t find the right words. My mind sticks on the decision.

It’s foolish to give in to this, to give in tohim.He’s my stalker. My kidnapper.

And yet, I know deep in my bones that he’ll do anything to keep me safe. Even from himself.

He brushes another kiss over my knuckles. “It’s your choice.”

We’ve reached the front of the line of cars. He gets out, circles the Porsche, and opens my door for me. A valet takes his keys, and Dane places his hand at the small of my back.

Butterflies beat their delicate wings in my stomach, a slightly desperate, fearful thrill.

He pauses and snaps his fingers. “How could I forget?”

The slightly cruel tilt to his smile tells me that he didn’t forget at all; this moment is designed to keep me on edge.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out my black leather collar with rose gold accents. The one that used to mark me as his submissive. And he was my master.

I try to take a step back, but his strong arm snakes around my lower back, trapping me. He pulls me in close, and his murmured words are hot on my neck.

“Are you going to be a good girl and lift your hair for me? Or am I going to have to pin you down to lock your collar around your pretty throat? One way or another, you’ll accept it. You’ll acceptme.”

My lips part in shock, and I stare up into his glittering green eyes that peer through the black skull mask.

“It’s your choice,” he says again, but there’s a mocking lilt to his tone this time.

I can’t allow him to physically subdue me like that. I can’t bear it. Especially not when there are other people around to witness my degradation.

My hands shake as I lift my hair, but I glare at him with open defiance.

He grins. “There’s my fierce pet. You’re being such a good girl for me now. When will you show your claws?”

“I’m not playing this game with you,” I hiss.

I can’t.

Not after what he’s done to me. Not after that awful scene in my studio, when he forced orgasms from my unwilling body.

He drops a kiss on my chilled lips, and the ice that was beginning to frost my skin melts away.

His hands encircle my throat, and smooth leather touches my neck. The familiar feel of it buckling into place is bittersweet, and tumultuous emotions surge.

I can’t do this. I can’t want this.

But I don’t fight when he slips the delicate padlock through the metal loop at the back of the buckle. It clicks closed, and the collar seems to meld to my skin, becoming part of me. As though it belongs there.

As though I belong to him.

I’m so absorbed by my internal conflict that I barely register the glint of silver before the cuff closes around my right wrist.

“What are you?—”

The question dies in my throat when I see him lock the matching cuff around his left wrist. We’re tethered together by a short chain.

“You’re not going anywhere, pet.”